


seifas ogeda

by convenientmisfires



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Rough Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 23:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convenientmisfires/pseuds/convenientmisfires
Summary: Abby’s still breathing heavily when she shoves him out of her way to get down the stairs, pulling her helmet off her head with less care than she’d take if there were ever any hope of seeing her daughter again.a follow up to the scene where Kane and Abby learn that they can't open the door to the bunker.





	seifas ogeda

The realization that Clarke might be out there alone, and that they may never get out of the bunker themselves hits each of them like a ton of bricks. Abby’s still breathing heavily when she shoves him out of her way to get down the stairs, pulling her helmet off her head with less care than she’d take if there were ever any hope of seeing her daughter again.

He follows after her staring at the floor, his movements slow as he takes in the scope of their future here.

“Take off your suit.”

He looks up at her, still shell-shocked, to find that she’s already unzipping her hazmat suit and pushing it off. He’d be lying if he claimed his eyes didn’t track down her body, lingering on her chest as she breathes heavily from their efforts with the door, _god_ he missed her.

It’s the first time she’s spoken to him in a month, let alone been alone in the same room. He’s reluctant to let it end so quickly.

“Marcus, take off the damn suit.”

He’s pulled from his bittersweet memories of the last time they were alone together as he’s reaching to disconnect the helmet. He looks up again to see her kicking off her own suit as if the garment had offended her. The helmet obscures his vision of her, but the next thing he knows her hands cover his, hastening his movements to pull it over his head.

“Abby, wh--” her hands are tugging at the zipper of his suit, then pushing it down his shoulders as she’s decided he’s moving too slow for her.

“I want you,” it’s soft and breathy and he’s not sure he heard her right. In fact, he’s pretty certain he misheard her completely. There’s no way she means…

Her hands have stopped, resting on his hips as the suit hangs low around his waist. Looking down between them, her voice shakes when she speaks again.

“I can barely look at you anymore, but I just--” she lets out a shallow breath. “I want you, Marcus. Please.” She looks up at him then, unshed tears in her eyes. “Please, just make me feel something other than this.”

He only hesitates a moment, looking in her eyes, closer than he’s been to her since they came down here. Then his hands are in her hair and his mouth is on hers as he backs her up against the far wall.  The sound she makes as his lips crash into hers is damn near unholy. Her hands tighten on his hips, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt to touch skin she hasn’t felt since they spent 9 days in a bed that’s now crumbled to dust above them.

His hands slide down her neck brushing her hair back, as hers move up his waist taking his shirt with them. Her nails drag against his skin and he shivers. If this is the only way she’ll look at him, he’s determined to make it good. His lips trail down her neck to the place just above her collarbone where he knows she likes it.  He pulls back to take her shirt over her head and then does the same with his own. He moves to unhook her bra but her hands are already on the button of her jeans.

“Marcus,” she’s pleading with him, her eyes trained low on the bulge making his own pants uncomfortably tight.

“Okay,” he catches his breath, “okay.” He shoves his own pants far enough out of the way, his heart rate increasing as she pushes her own down her toned legs along with her panties. He hovers over her, his cock brushing against her stomach, smearing the evidence of how much he wants her too against her soft skin.

Her hands frame his face, tender in a way he never thought she’d touch him again.  

Marcus slides a hand between her legs, finding her soft and hot and wet. A whimper falls from her lips without her permission as his fingers brush against her clit.

“Abby,” he breathes her name in awe, in lust, and in love all tangled together. His free hand slides down her thigh with the intention of hitching it up against his hip and opening her up to him. But her hands move from his face to his chest, her nails digging ever so slightly into his skin like she’s barely restraining herself. She pushes him back just slightly, shaking her head. He pulls back immediately, giving her the space she’s asked for.

His breath catches in his throat when she turns around in front of him, pressing her palms into the cool concrete in front of them and arching her back as she looks over her shoulder and nods. Marcus is back on her in an instant, one hand aligning his cock against her entrance, the other tangling in her hair, urging her to arch her neck so that he can kiss her again.

He slides into her slow and deep and all at once. She tears her mouth away from his, a rough, breathless moan falling from her lips at the feel of him inside her. Abby feels full after nothing but emptiness for the last two and a half months. His hands move softly on her waist as his breath huffs lightly against the back of her neck like he’s savoring the feeling as much as she is.

“Don’t go slow, I won’t break,” she tells him, her voice steadier than it’s been since they walked into this room. “I don’t want to feel anything else, just this,” one of her hands falls over his where it rests on her hip. “Just us.”

He nods, the soft, bristly sensation of his beard scratches gently against her temple and his hands tighten to the point of bruising on her hips. He slides his cock nearly all the way out of her and then drives back into her, setting a steady and rapid pace just like she wants him to.

“ _Yea_ \--” she cuts herself off, the sounds she makes are half words and swallowed encouragements, but he hears them all the same. Abby arches against him and he covers her neck in heavy kisses and sharp scrapes of his teeth. She’s biting her lip to keep from crying out, but she can’t help the little groans and whimpers that punctuate each of his thrusts. Her hands flex against the wall in front of them. He pulls down the cups of her bra with one hand, flicking his thumb against her nipples one at a time, while his other hand holds her hips as he picks up the pace. Marcus grips her breast, tight enough that she hopes he leaves his fingerprints in blue and purple marks. One of her hands falls to give her other breast the same attention as his hands are full already. He groans, deep and hungry into her hair at the sight over her shoulder.  

Abby’s legs shake and her feet shuffle on the floor as she squirms against him, her head falling back against his shoulder. He takes no small amount of pride in still being able to reduce her to this sweating, shaking mess.

For a minute he’s just as lost as she is. There’s nothing beyond this moment, no praimfaya, no door that won’t open, just the soft sounds of their breathing, the friction of their hips, and his mouth on her skin.

He moves one hand up from her hip to cover hers on the concrete, her fingers flex and curl against his as he holds her there, his hips speeding up against her and faltering in rhythm. His other hand slides over her hip and down to where they’re joined, finding her clit and circling it over and over with the pads of his fingers.

“Oh _ohhh_ ,” her head falls forward. “ _Yes_ , just like that baby _don’t stop._ Oh god, _Marcus please don’t stop_.”

He doesn’t stop. Marcus works her into a frenzy, his hips stuttering against her ass, she falls apart at his hands, crying out his name in a broken whimper as she comes trembling in his arms.

“ _Abby_ ,” he breathes, just as broken as he follows her right over the edge, hips jerking as he spills inside her hot, and pulsing.

They’re both shaking and breathing heavily as they come down together. She takes their joined hands down from where they rest together on the wall, not letting go and crossing their arms over her chest, wrapping him around her and resting her forehead on the cool concrete instead.

He loses track of how long they stand there, just breathing together. He wills the moment to last forever, not yet ready to let her go again but knowing he’ll give her whatever she needs. Eventually, though he slides out of her and their arms fall from around her as they extricate themselves from each other and try to redress in some semblance of order. She can’t bring herself to look at him again, and he can’t take his eyes off of her. There are tears in her eyes again and he reaches out to cup her face and brush them away as they fall, but she shakes her head.

“You should tell Octavia about the tower.” Her soft inhalation as she wipes away her own tears breaks his heart.”

“ _Abby_.”

She reaches out to grip his hand for a moment.

“Thank you, Marcus.” For trying, for sending for her, for not asking for more than she can give, for giving her what she asked for just now. She can’t say any of it, but he understands.

Abby goes to open the door and descend back into the place they might have to call home forever. She stops and looks back at him one last time.

“I’ll see you around.”

He nods at her, smiling softly as she returns the gesture just once before shutting the door behind herself.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> look I just really wanted them to fuck, it's been a while.


End file.
